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Today is The Squire’s birthday, and yesterday was our wedding anniversary. Like our Thanksgiving, our celebration was low-key. We went to a favorite restaurant for a late lunch, and then sat up and read half the night.

We had a delightful fellow as our supply this morning. We were standing together at the back of the sanctuary before service, and I was – in my usual bossy way – giving him the low-down on all the peculiar things our parish does. When I got finished, he turned to me and asked, in all seriousness, if I was also going to preach the sermon. Both The Squire and the Senior Warden assured him that I was perfectly capable of doing so, if necessary.

We have one member who has severe celiac disease, and I had handed him the mini-ciborium for her use, and told him I would give him a heads up when she came to the rail. I did so, but he didn’t seem to have hear me, so I reached around behind and tugged on his alb.

Later, at coffee hour, I mentioned that he hadn’t heard me, and he raised one eyebrow. “What makes you so sure I wasn’t ignoring you?”

Wel-l-l.

He chuckled and continued, “When I am speaking directly to God, I’m not going to stop and talk to you.”

After we ate dinner yesterday afternoon, The Squire and I started on our Christmas cards. We always try to get this job out of the way as soon after Thanksgiving as possible, because we always have an Open House on Advent III. This year, Advent IV is a full week before Christmas, so it really cuts us short.

The Squire found an appropriate Bible verse, and we printed off the cards, and then I started addressing them. My handwriting is marginally better than his, but that is faint praise, indeed.

First, I had to fix us each a cup of hot chocolate. About twenty minutes later the phone rang; Harford County 911 said there was a fire alarm at church, and they couldn’t get anybody else. The Squire was ready for bed, so I had to call around and see if I could rouse somebody. Address one card, then I needed an address for “new person”. Get The Squire back down stairs to rummage around on his computer.

The dog wants out. The cat wants in. The dog has been out too long, so I called him. Nada. His empty collar is on the end if the rope. Get a Milk-Bone and his leash, pull off my slippers and put on my boots, and fall over him sitting on the door step.

Back to the business at hand. Address two more cards.

It took me four hours to address two dozen cards.

This morning we got the winter clothing out of the attic. Sorted, tried on, and tossed. I went up to the Goodwill store and dropped off a huge bag of stuff, including two short, stubby glasses (highballs?) engraved with a “P, courtesy of my parents, and an old tackle box. Both had been on Freecycle twice with no takers, so out they go.

Both The Squire and I have colds, so we stayed put today rather than risk giving it to the kinder. I am just getting over this plague, but The Squire is smack-dab in the middle of it.

I fixed him a stuffed chicken breast, and made a cauliflower-red onion tart for myself. It was absolutely fabulous, but it took the Devil’s own time to make, and dirtied virtually every pot and pan in the kitchen.

Three cheers for whoever invented the dish-washer!

Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah!

We topped it off with a slice of pumpkin-caramel pie, which had more calories per slice than the average Ethiopian sees in a week – garnished with low fat “whipped cream”. Well, you need to cut corners someplace.

I even got out the good dishes and the sterling. And I only set off the smoke alarm once!

This morning I was getting geared up for my Thanksgiving baking, as well as seeing what I needed for Christmas. After poking around in the freezer a bit, I closed the door behind me. I turned around to get something I’d forgotten, and discovered the door slowly swinging open.

Lovely.

I closed it several times, and the door continued to open every time I shut it. I didn’t have time to play this game all day, so I got the kitchen stool and pushed that up against the door. Then I went looking for a piece of B&O rail my grandfather had brought home one time. It is ten inches long and weighs about as much as the average second grader. (Seriously, fifty pounds if it’s an ounce.) If you want something held closed – or open – that baby is what you need.

When The Squire came downstairs I told him my tale of woe, and he took a look. We checked to see that the freezer is still level – it is – and wondered aloud if the magnetic gasket had lost its magnetism. The freezer is from Wards, and I had it when The Squire and I got married. We’ve been through at least three refrigerators, but the freezer still plugs along. (I guess I really shouldn’t say that out loud, should I?)

Anyway, after much measuring and sighing, The Squire shut the door and noticed it “hitched up” when it was about half closed. He looked at the top hinge and didn’t see anything, and then he looked at the bottom hinge.

The plastic handle to my feather duster had fallen into the opening between the door and the body of the freezer, preventing the door from sealing properly.

Yeesh.

One of the blogs I follow faithfully is written by a delightful lady named Mary Ann. She has written several books about growing up Amish, called Life With Lily. Right now, she is giving away the entire four volumes, as a pre-Christmas gift. Go see what she has to say!

One of the blogs I follow is Cake Wrecks. http://cakewrecks.squarespace.com/ Every day, there are four or five of the most god-awful cakes you’ve ever seen, all done by people claiming to be professional decorators.

Today was a collection of cakes purporting to be Thanksgiving Turkeys. My question was “Have any of these folks ever seen a turkey?” And quite obviously, the answer is No. Bless their hearts, they wouldn’t recognize an on-the-hoof turkey if it crossed the street in front of them. No reason they should. They are city folks, not farmers.

However, if your job involves giving other people government advice, you’d best know what you’re talking about.

A fellow came from the county assessment office to refigure our property taxes, and while I was leading him through the marsh that is the Rice Paddy, we stopped beside the pond in the yard. One of the snapping turtles swam up to see if I was going to feed him, and the man asked me where the pond overflowed. I led him downhill to the stream, and he looked over his shoulder and then back at the stream. “You know, you shouldn’t let the water from the pond run into the stream.”

“Oh. Why not?” (“You got a way to make it go uphill, buster?” I didn’t ask.)

“Your fish and turtles go in the pond. You don’t want that to pollute the stream, do you?”

“Um, Mr. Government Man, where do you think the fish that live in the stream go?” The look he gave me was priceless. Obviously, this had never occurred to him.

But now we all know why whales beach themselves from time to time. They are looking for the sandbox, so they won’t pollute the ocean.

In other words, it’s blowin’ a bloody gale outside. The temperature is 42F (5.5C), which is not bad for mid-to late-November, but when the wind is hitting 55 mph (88.5kph), it can feel as if it is only 30 (-1).

The lights kept flickering at church this morning, and the treasurer joked about not paying the bill, but when we came home the power lines were down heading out of our little berg. Police cars blocking traffic crossing the highway, and utility trucks here and there. Not sure what they eventually did, as Gas & Electric won’t send people up in the “cherry pickers” if the wind is over 30 mph (48 k). Our power had also been out here, but the tall case clock in the dining room set us all straight when it came time to set the electric clocks.

We had our Annual Meeting at church today, and yours truly got herself elected to the vestry. Quite a surprise when I was nominated from the floor, and even more of a shock when I was actually elected. Thank you very much! And I got official permission to resume the monthly newsletter. This was cancelled when a former rector got in a snit over something I posted here. It wasn’t a lie, so I’m not sure what the big deal was, but some people just defy explanation.

Of all the nonsensical things, the newsletter now has to be approved by the entire vestry before it can be published. That should be cute – trying to get a half dozen people to agree on anything. It would probably be easier to shepherd a bill through Congress. Well, we shall see. I got such joy out of doing the newsletter before, and I’m looking forward to getting it up and running again.

Not sure what I’m going to call said newsletter, as the aforementioned rector told me “The Epistle is finished”. We shall see.

I am so sick of fighting this blasted cold. It’s been since last Tuesday and I’m mightily tired of it. Coughing and blowing all day and all night. The Squire has decamped to the guest room, and I can hardly blame the poor man.